NationStates Jolt Archive

The satellites glided silently through the infinite abyss of space. In orbit above the small peninsula on the small island-continent of Karas. A war was on, though not a major one. The so-called "Superpowers" looked down their noses at the bickerings of lesser peoples. They "Intervened" and sent "Peacekeepers" and labelled the wars of others. The "Superpowers" were filthy hypocrites who did the same thing on much larger scales. The only real difference was that their wars were one-sided, even when they were run incompetantly, as they usually were.

The small island federation of Exiao had managed to stay independent. It was not a pet of any power, and it had survived and kept its independence. But the people of Karas looked south at the wealthy Exiaon Isles with envious eyes. They invaded quickly and foolishly, thinking they would claim an easy victory over primitive people. Their fleet was arrogant and sailed directly into a mine field. A third of their fleet was lost, claiming over a million lives. The rest sped into full retreat. A small fleet of aircraft bombed the enemy boats all the way back to their harbors. The leaders of the nation known as "Tarwe" sued for peace, but found the young emperor of Exiao strangely uncooperative.

Achieving air superiority quickly, and with the military in chaos after losing over two million men and its entire navy, specially trained geurilla-style squads were air dropped into the strip of land. It was not large, perhaps one hundred kilometers long and fifty kilometers wide. But the thick jungles and deep canyons were perfect for launching a geurilla war on a nation with.

The Tarwe were right about one thing. The war was one-sided. It was over in a few short months. The cowardly and stupid minions who pretended to be leaders bowed before the young Emperor Aleksandr as their master. A mere child had conquered them. A nation of pencil-pushers were all that they were, after all. Their entire country had been a satellite of the "Superpowers," though. It would not be long before those conceited fools came asking for their annual tribute.

A young, brown-haired boy of about fifteen stood in a dark and dusty throne room. He wore traditional royal garb. A long, regal cloak, and a sparkling golden crown. Beams of sunlight filtered in through the high windows, cutting a path through the particles in the air and illuminating a patch of the stone floor before him. He stood there for a moment, glancing at the bloody and beheaded bureaucrats being dragged away. Their blood was black-looking in the dim light, and was begining to cake onto the walls. He did not look away from their bodies. He did not wince or flinch as it was discovered that one of the impaled men was still alive. The defeated man announced his presence by gasping for air. Quickly, Aleksandr's guards rushed over and stabbed him a few more times. More blood gushed onto the gray stone walls, making the blood shine again in the filtered sunlight. He finally moved. He swiftly approached the throne and sat down. It was much less comfortable than his, but because it was his enemy's, it felt much better.

Meanwhile, on the rooftops, the proud flag of Exiao was hoisted above the buildings. Its glorious black and orange colors waved triumphantly in the winds, even as the warclouds thickened above the conquered lands.

Two months later, Exiao had completely occupied the entire peninsula, and fortified the narrow strip of land in the north.

The young emperor, though only fifteen, was clearly the one calling the shots. Many accused him of being a puppet for his "Advisors," but such claims were rare, since no one who saw his leadership in action questioned its authenticity. Currently, Aleksandr was assigning governors to the three provinces that his surveyors had designated. Long interviews and thourough backround checks filtered out the slime until only a handful of qualified benefactors remained.

"We... have inherited a nation with a very good transportation system." The boy said from his throne in the forum. "We have thousands of miles of roads and railroads of standard size and good quality. However, we still have internal improvements to attend to. Namely, the thick jungles that cover this strip of land. The 'Superpowers' will lobby us to stop deforestization through their ignorance, but we will not heed them. We will cut the timber and sell it to the world market. Wood is selling at a premium. We will give away these government controlled lands to citizens. We will grow peanuts and other legumes to enrich the depleted soil, and build factories and ports. This land has no real export. I believe we sell..."

An advisor rushed up to his ear and whispered something.

"...Cheese. Apparently, we're somewhat of a cheese supplier to the world. We will become Peanut and peanut product exporters as well. This will take place at a steady, controlled pace over the next fifty years. In the mean time, we have a very large pile of wealth that we need to spend. We will immediately begin advertising and implementing a federal grant to draw new talent to our nation. We will supply intelligent and productive citizens of Exiao 100 Denari ((US$1000)) per month. Set up a meeting for me concerning that."

He clapped his hands and the large forum exploded into activity and noise and the young emperor retreated to his citadel.

The Ministry of Foreign Affairs for the United Kingdom guided the massive state in its expansion of foreign contacts, keeping enemies close and friends even closer. At the desk in the main entrance Timothy Pickerings stood watch, his tradition dress and old-fashioned pike attempting to connect the past of the United Kingdom to its more security-driven future, as he stood guard against possible assailants with a small sub-machinegun tucked inside his ornate uniform.